16. Syneca #2
The Phoenix was born from angry women leaving the Underworld. From Furies who’d had enough. Who’d taken their rage and their grief and their power and said no more.
I was allowed to be angry.
I was allowed to feel betrayed.
I was allowed to spiral as deep down as I wanted and turn anything that got in my way to ash.
They’d taken my grandmother. My best friend. My familiar. My trust.
They’d carved the Phoenix mark from my back when I was a child and told me to hide what I was.
They’d hunted me. Stabbed me. Manipulated me into bargains I didn’t understand.
And I was done.
Done hiding. Done being small. Done letting fear dictate what I was allowed to be.
The fire in the hearth roared to life. Flames licking up the walls. The water boiled so violently it splashed over the edge of the pool.
I was shaking. Not with fear. With rage so pure it felt like power.
Silas had compulsion over me now. One word and my will wasn’t my own.
Fuck. That.
The walls caught fire.
I reached for water magic instinctively, then remembered he’d cut me off from it. Cut me off from the power I’d relied on for years because he decided it was best for me.
I sent a giant fuck you down the bond. I felt it hit him wherever he was and hoped it hurt.
Then I stepped out of the pool. Grabbed a towel and wrapped it around myself. I walked toward the door while the room burned.
Let it all burn.
Silas stood in the hallway.
He leaned against the wall like he’d been waiting. Like he’d known exactly when I’d emerge. Those blue eyes found mine, and something that might have been satisfaction flickered across his perfect face.
“There she is.” He waved one hand. The fire behind me died. Just—gone. Like it had never existed.
I hated how easy it was for him. How effortless. But I didn’t let it show. Instead, I stood taller. Let the towel loosen. Let my wet hair drip onto the floor.
His eyes stayed on my face. Didn’t drop. Didn’t waver, as if he were made of steel. “Feel better?”
“Immensely.”
“Good.” He pushed off the wall. “Now shield your magic before every demon in Kiamond shows up at my door.”
“Say please, asshole.”
His mouth curved. It wasn’t quite a smile but something sharper. “Please.”
The word shouldn’t have affected me, but it did. It slid under my skin like a promise and a threat that was only his and mine.
“The spell is Velum,” he continued. “Shield. Cover. Hide what you don’t want seen.”
I wanted to refuse. To tell him to go to every level of hell he could manage. But the anger was still there, still burning, and I could feel it radiating off me in waves that probably lit up like a beacon to anyone paying attention.
I went back to that feeling from before. Not pulling. Not pushing. Not reaching. Just remembering.
“Velum,” I whispered, never taking my eyes from him.
The magic answered. Not because I commanded it. Because I asked, and it knew me. It answered to me.
The shield snapped into place. My power folded inward and locked away where only I could access it. But this time it wasn’t hidden, nor buried in fear and shame. This was control. Mine. On my terms.
Silas’s shoulders dropped. Somewhere far away, Dez cheered.
“Beautiful, Ith Noem,” Silas said quietly as he pulled out a candle.
“No.” I scowled.
He lifted a brow. “Light it.”
I should have walked away while I still felt like I had the upper hand. Instead, I took it.
Our fingers brushed. Just for a second. Through the bond, I felt something crack in him. Like he’d been holding himself together by force and my touch had found the weak point. I reveled in that small victory, even if his face gave nothing away.
“Ignis,” I whispered, still holding his gaze.
The wick caught immediately, flame dancing to life between us, casting shadows across his face that made his features sharper. More dangerous. More devastating.
“Release me from the bargain, Silas.”
“No.” The refusal was soft but absolute.
A new surge of anger rose up. I didn’t reach for the fire. Didn’t pull or push. I just felt it bloom within me. “Ignis.”
His shirt caught first. Then his pants as fire raced across the fabric. He didn’t flinch. Didn’t move. Just stood there while his clothes burned away, leaving bronze skin and the kind of body that had no business existing on someone so damn infuriating.
I kept my eyes on his face. Refused to give him the satisfaction of looking anywhere else.
“Feel better?” he asked, voice rough.
“Immensely.”
The corner of his mouth curved. Almost a smile. “Good.”
Through the bond, I felt that fracture widen. I felt something in him shift and crack and reform. His control was slipping and he knew I could feel it.
“Release the bargain,” I said again. “Or I’ll burn more than fabric.”
“Ask me tomorrow.” He took a step closer, completely unbothered by his state of undress. “When you’ve had time to regret threatening me.”
“I won’t regret it.”
“You will.”
I lifted my chin. “What are the consequences of punching a demon in his pretty face?”
Something flashed in his eyes.
He leaned down slightly, bringing us eye to eye. “When you try it, and we both know you will, make sure to throw some heat behind it. I’ve always preferred your fire, witch.”
“And here I thought you wanted obedience.”
“Obedience is boring. I prefer you dangerous.”
The air between us crackled. I gripped the edge of my towel a little tighter, just to keep myself grounded.
“Then give me one,” I said. “A true thing. Call it interest.”
His gaze stayed level as he sighed. “One true thing. I despise being cold. The fire you keep throwing at me is the warmest I’ve been in longer than you’ve been alive.”
It was nothing. A complaint. A man who didn’t care for a chill.
But he’d said it watching me like he was waiting to see what I’d do with it, and I understood, suddenly, that this was how he’d always play it, handing me things small enough to mean nothing and personal enough to mean everything, and letting me decide which they were.
“That’s a poor trade,” I said, shoving the thought down before it showed on my face. “I obey twice and all I get is your opinion on the weather.”
“You got more than you think.” He smiled then. A small smile that transformed his face into something softer. “Tomorrow then.”
Then he turned and walked away, still naked, leaving me standing in the hallway with a candle and the absolute certainty that I’d just started something I had no idea how to finish. But for the first time since I woke up in this nightmare, I wasn’t the one running.